


Hold On Tight & Don't Let Go

by nerdofsorts



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Hurt Peter Parker, One Shot, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdofsorts/pseuds/nerdofsorts
Summary: It is a universal truth that heroes will go out in a blaze of glory.FALSE.Sometimes, shit doesn't happen the way it was supposed to. And people get hurt. And help doesn't always get there in time.And people have to watch those they love die in their arms as they hold on tight for the very last time.But eventually, everyone has to let go.





	Hold On Tight & Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like after Ned pointed out that Peter could have died at Mr Delmar's store, he would have spent some time thinking about how he would die. He probably would have imagined a huge battle between himself and a super-villain, or perhaps late into his retirement, peacefully in his sleep. 
> 
> I doubt he thought it would be junkie to bring him crashing down. 
> 
> word count: 2397

Tony was so close to fixing the compression issue, he could almost taste it. It right there in front of him, he was so close, so close...

The storage unit whined horrendously and popped open, a dust of Nano-tech particles settling over him. It was like a confetti, saying ‘good try but you still fuck up bro’. His aim had been off by less than a millimetre, but it was enough.

God, it was even it his hair.

He flicked on the magnet with a sigh, attracting the particles back to the table. Sure, he had hit the millionth road block with this new suit, but he had to remember what it was going to become. And he sure as hell couldn’t wait for the Nano-tech suit to come together. He already was drawing up plans to introduce the tech to the kid’s suit.

It was a jump forward for science, and the engineer inside him was bouncing off the walls with excitement. With this jump forward though, came the reminder of why he was designing these suits. Tony dreaded the day that something cruel enough would come that demanded the use of the Nano-tech.

“Boss, you have an incoming call from Spider-Man’s suit line,” FRIDAY announced, stopping Tony from resetting the compression unit.

 _Well_ , _this_ _is_ _a_ _first_ , Tony thought to himself. Normally Pete just spammed his phone with texts and voice mails about his daily patrols.

Although he would never admit it to anyone, he loved reading the kid’s constant upbeat messages and overuse of emojis.

“Put him through,” he ordered, deciding it was time for a three-minute break. “Hey kid, stop any jaywalking thugs today?” He asked, resting easily against a bench top.

“Mr Stark, I screwed up. I screwed up so bad,” Peter’s voice cracked, betraying the fear he’d hoped so badly to hide.

Tony’s heart dropped at his words. This was not how he had expected this call to go. “Hey, hey, Pete, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t fix. What happened?” His voice was gentle, coaxing Peter to explain what had happened.

“There was a man and he... well I thought he was just breaking in but he had a gun and I, I wasn’t, I wasn’t,” he stuttered, “I wasn’t fast enough, and now I don’t know where he’s gone, normally I wouldn’t bother you but my leg won’t stop bleeding and...”

“Peter,” Tony cut off his rambling. “I’m coming to your co-ordinates with the med suit, just hang tight for a few more minutes okay?

“FRIDAY, make sure that his suit’s running the ‘Bandaid for an Ouchie’ protocol. Keep me up to date on his vitals, bring out Mark 19 for me.”

“Already on it Boss,” she responded, and true to her word he could hear the capsule holding Mark 19 unlocking. Moments later the suit was bursting through the door, landing in front of him with a grace only a machine could achieve.

The calm whir of the suit opening up was a harsh contrast to the pounding of Tony’s heart. Adrenaline was already surging through him, and he barely waited for the suit to sync before he rushed out of the exit and into the sky.

The Med suit flanked him as he crossed the border of the compound, and no sooner had it done that, he put all that he had into the thrusters. He had to get to Peter, and now. FRIDAY had his ETA at seven minutes, and he prayed that the kid could hold on for that long. The ‘Bandaid for an Ouchie’ protocol should walk Pete through controlling the bleeding, but would that be enough?

Tony knew that Pete was strong, and not just because he was bitten by a jacked up spider. He was a good kid at heart, pushing through everything to do what was right.

It made him even more worried over the fact he had called Tony over an injury, because that meant it was serious.

“His heart rate is at 63 BPM and blood pressure is at 95/60 and falling,” Friday rattled off in his ear. Even she sounded afraid. “All data is being streamed to the med suit as we speak. It appears that Peter sustained an injury to sector 18, and considerable trauma to his femoral artery.”

“Shit, shit, shit, we need to go faster,” Tony muttered, trying to calculate how much time he had to get to Peter… The call had been a minute and a half ago, they were still six and a half minutes from his kid’s location…

“I said faster FRIDAY!”

“Boss we…” FRIDAY tried to argue.

Tony wasn’t exactly yelling, but his tone left no room for argument. “I don’t care FRI, juice ‘em up!” He braced himself as the suit broke through the sound barrier, and had he not been panicking over Peter, he would have been exhilarated to be flying so fast again.

But all he could picture was arriving to a limp body framed by a pool of blood.

He watched the ETA number decrease rapidly, the numbers falling away. Up ahead he could see the suit beacon plotted, the pin point becoming larger and larger as he neared. Together he and the med suit smacked down to the ground, little craters left behind on the side walk.

The only souls awake at this hour to notice their grand entrance were the rats, who skittered away and around corners, darkness swallowing them up.

They were on the outskirts of the city, facing a run-down jewellery store that looked like it sold more fakes than genuine pieces. Tony briefly wondered what Peter was doing so far out, but it was only for a moment. He had to get in there to his kid, he had to stop the bleeding.

Tony blasted down what remained of the broken door. The beams of light from his suit lit up patches of the small store, and frantically he spun around, searching for red and blue. One whole wall of cases had been shattered. The harsh angles of fractured glass glinted back at him, small pieces littering the floor like a fresh snow.

Seconds ticked by and Tony could feel the panic rising in his throat. Slowly it threatened to choke him, taking away his ability to breathe. His ability to think rationally.

“Peter?” he let out a strangled cry.

 

The faintest sound of shifting broken glass caught his attention, and his head snapped to the far corner. 

Peter was slumped against the wall, one hand draped across his lap, the other sitting useless beside him. The mask was still on, his head lolled forward with his chin resting gently against his chest. The only sign of life were the soft wheezes he intermittently released.

Tony released himself from the suit, needing to hold the kid with his own two hands. The med suit followed only a step behind.

The billionaire dropped to his knees beside Pete, gingerly reaching out with both hands to raise the boy’s head. Keeping one hand under his chin, Tony slowly peeled off the mask.

Peter’s skin was a deathly shade of grey, a sheen of sweat glistening under the soft blue light of Mark 19. Tony brushed the damp curls back from his forehead, trying to ignore the way Pete’s clammy skin was like ice beneath his fingers. He stilled hadn’t opened his eyes, and Tony cupped his face in both try and get his attention.

“Peter?” he breathed shakily, and to his greatest relief the boy’s brown eyes fluttered open. It was okay, Peter was alive. He got to him in time.

“M’Stark?” the kid slurred, his eyes lazily drawing upwards to look at his mentor. They weren’t as sharp as Tony remembered. An unreachable distance separated the pair.

“Yeah kid, I’m here. You’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeated, but at this point he didn’t know is he was reassuring Peter or himself. Peter seemed too out of it to notice the tremble in Tony’s hands as he held him.

A soft moan escaped Peter’s lips and Tony’s gaze whipped down to see what the med suit was doing to him.

He nearly blanched at the sight. What used to be the blue of the suit of his left thigh was now saturated in dark blood, shining under the focal light of the med suit. Tony could see a faint pulse as more blood poured from the wound, trickling down to join the pool collecting on the ground. It had been a clean bullet entry, ripping right through the artery.

Tony noticed the palm of the hand draped across Peter’s lap was also stained a similar colour, from where the kid had desperately tried to put pressure on the wound. Tony hated to think of him in here alone in the dark, clutching his leg as he bled out.

The med suit had already fashioned a tourniquet, and was beginning to search for the bullet, which apparently hadn’t gone all the way through his leg.

It was still in there somewhere.

Peter tried to shift away from the pain, but Tony moved to grab his shoulders. He had to keep him still.

“Hey, hey now. Let the suit do it’s thing.” _Keep him awake Tony, he can’t go under again._ “What happened here kid? You did a fine job of smashing everything, and that’s coming from me.”

That earned a lopsided grin from Peter, and Tony took that as a small win. Pete sucked in a rattling breathe before he began. “H’ was high or” _wheeze._ “s’meth’n,” _wheeze._ “Dodg’d five, b’t” _wheeze_ “screw’d up l’st one.” _Wheeze._

A hideous anger started to swirl in Tony’s stomach. Had some crackhead decided to empty a gun at some kid? He promised himself there that he would track down that waste of oxygen if it were the last thing he did…

Peter’s weak body succumbed even further to the blood loss, shaking in Tony’s grip. The billionaire positioned himself even closer to the kid, so that Peter was basically lying in his lap as he cradled him.

Tony stripped off his own hoodie without thinking twice and wrapped it around Peter’s shoulders as best he could.

He could now _feel_ each weak breath the kid took, a desperate grasp to hang onto consciousness. He felt the tensing of muscles as Pete tried his best not to pull away from the med suit, and Tony wished more than anything that they could trade spots. Tony was an old man who had fucked up more times than he could count – he should be on the ground bleeding. Not Peter. Not the boy who only wanted to help everyone, who hadn’t even graduated. Who wanted to be just like ‘Mr Stark’, even though Tony couldn’t see how.

Peter couldn’t die tonight.

“We have to get him out of here now,” he spoke in a low voice at the suit. It had removed the bullet, and was now applying more pressure to the wound.

“The patient has less than a 4% chance of surviving the flight,” it stated.

“He won’t survive in this shithole either. His healing has stopped him from bleeding out until now, it will hold him together during the flight,” he growled back. Peter tensed in his lap, but Tony took no notice. He was ready to order it to collect up Peter, when FRIDAY spoke up.

“Boss, think about what’s best for Peter. If we were to move him he would die alone and afraid, but if you stay with him…”

“FRIDAY, shut it.” He snapped. _How dare she talk like that._

Peter had stopped shivering, but Tony didn’t know if that was good or not. The kid’s glassy eyes looked up into his own, filled with a kind of resignation.

“S’kay M’ Stark,” he whispered, a trace of a smile ghosting across his features. But Tony wasn’t falling for it. He knew inside the kid was scared. Terrified of what was happening to him.

And there wasn’t anything Tony could do about it.

 _But maybe there was._ Perhaps FRIDAY was right. The rising tension was only upsetting Peter, and Tony was making it worse by fighting it. His vision blurred as the tears started to form, but he looked up and willed them away. He couldn’t let the kid see the horror that he felt inside, not now. He had to be strong for Peter.

Slowly he ran his hand through the kid’s brown tangles, in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He didn’t have any experience in this area – what are you supposed to do while helplessly watching someone die in your arms? Every cell of his fought to get up and whisk the kid away to the compound, or at least a hospital. But he didn’t, he just sat there and tried his best to provide some sort of comfort.

“Th’nk you, Tony.” Pete murmured, his body relaxing.

He broke inside as Peter said his name.

Of course the kid was thanking Tony with his dying breath. It was such a Peter thing to do.

“You’re a fucking wonder, Peter. Damnit,” Tony cursed, his voice breaking. He couldn’t bear this. He closed his eyes and tried his hardest to get a grip. _Just keep stroking the kid’s head, hold him tight, don’t let go…_

Tony felt it before he even opened his eyes.

Peter’s body stopped seeking Tony’s warmth, but limply fell away from him, unnaturally still. Those big, brown eyes stared vacantly upward at the ceiling, no longer seeing. No longer scared.

Tony let out a choked gasp, his whole body uncontrollably trembling as he clutched the dead kid’s body. He’d come to know all kinds of pain during different stages of his life.

But it was nothing like this hurt. The ache he felt in every fibre of his being.

He was vaguely aware of the med suit rising to return home, and FRIDAY saying something over and over in his ear, but he never heard a word she said. A loop of Pete saying his name was playing over and over in his mind, drowning everything else out.

_Tony._

_Tony._

_Tony._

_Thank you, Tony._

Tony sat there silently under the dim light of Mark 19, tears spilling down his cheeks as he held his kid close for the very last time.

**Author's Note:**

> welp
> 
> tumblr: nerd-of-sorts , send me prompts! :)


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